Unwanted
by Fiskey-Kin
Summary: Being a bungling inventor wasn't the only reason Lewis failed over a hundred adoption interviews.


"It was a mistake coming here!" A petite woman with red hair and white dress railed at her husband as the two rushed to their car. It was the only hope and escape from the menace that they had just met; she knew that rumors of this orphanage were not earned for nothing. If only she had listened it would have prevented the sorrowful events of today.

"Don't worry, we're at the car. Breathe." The perfect husband tried to comfort his perfect wife sitting in the passenger seat.

"He ruined it. I had so many important pictures in there."

"I'm sure there is someone who can save the memory." The man held up a sparking camera. "Maybe it isn't as bad as it looks."

The two screamed as the camera caught on fire and the man threw it out the window before it could singe his hands.

"Just drive!" The woman shook her husband back and forth vigorously as he started the car.

The couple never looked back, but if they did they would have seen a child looking longingly out the window as the car sped off. One would never suspect that this particular child could have caused that sort of reaction. He was small for his age of twelve with blond spiky hair that stood straight up and he had angelic, light blue eyes. He was the stereotypical image of non-troublemaker, but looks could be deceiving.

The child dropped the gizmo in his hand in defeat while a woman behind him placed a protective hand on his shoulder, attempting to offer some comfort; the child appreciated it more than words could describe but that comfort was very short lived as he heard another car approach the orphanage.

"This day keeps being better and better." The aspiring inventor said, observing a purple car with an orange strip pull impatiently into the space the fleeing couple just left. It smacked into another car in front of it and then backed into the car behind it, before coming to a complete stop.

"Lewis, go upstairs."

"I can take him, Mildred. I really can."

"It was not a question, go to your room _now_."

"Just one insult?" He looked at her with begging eyes. "Please?"

"Lewis…" Mildred was starting to get impatient, even she had her own limits.

Lewis knew he was pushing it already and started to hesitantly climb up the stairs. His hand brushed the rail lightly, knowing a hard grip on the aging handrail would give him nasty splinters. He would have turned to see if Mildred was still watching him, but he knew she had eyes on the back of her head.

It was when Lewis reached the top of the flight of stairs that he turned the corner, stopping as soon as the wall hid his small frame. He counted on his fingertips the seconds that passed until he heard a series of brutal knocks on the door from the outside –the counting stopped at three. The child felt so sorry for that poor, old door; they should really get a doorbell.

"Hello, Mister Floyd." Lewis could hear his guardian angel say as the dreaded demon entered into his only sanctuary. "I didn't expect-well, it's always good to see you."

The eavesdropping child could imagine the fake smile on Mr. Floyd's face as the man let two hefty sized objects drop to the floor. Lewis _really_ hoped this guy wouldn't be staying. It was baggage, and his heart sunk as he slowly realized that the whole reason Mr. Floyd was here was probably for that very reason.

Lewis had baggage too.

Sure, causing someone's camera to spontaneous combust with powerful magnets would be considered some serious baggage. But his natural inclination toward science and inventing run-amok technology wasn't the only thing that set him apart from other "normal" boys in the orphanage. In fact, it might be the lesser baggage in comparison to the fact that he wasn't technically a boy at all.

Yet he was a boy. Everyone saw him as a boy, everything in his mind earnestly told him he was a boy, so what was the problem? But that's where technicalities come into play.

Boys and girls had different parts and he had the girl ones. Not that anyone would ever know; these parts were called "private parts" for a reason. Despite that these parts were supposed to be private, society seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with them and knowing what they were, especially when it involved locker rooms and bathrooms. This always put Lewis in a very precarious spot.

If being a boy wasn't a fact of biology then it was a fact of neurology. Clearly, if his mind said he was a boy this would be the defining factor of who he was. And maybe not even just the mind itself. If he wasn't so much of a skeptic -if he would even entertain the thought- maybe being a boy was part of his immortal soul. Clearly, what his immortal soul said was more important than what the mortal body said, right? To him, it was really simple. But the rest of the world and society did not have the same reasoning as him.

He wasn't dreading thirteen only because his chances of being adopted would be basically nil; the gap between girl and boy would start to widen. Children tended to be androgynous looking. Lewis was protected in the safe space that was childhood. All you needed to be seen as a boy or girl was the right haircut and clothes. But this would be true only for a little bit longer, puberty would make it a lot more complicated for him to be and be seen as the boy he was.

As Lewis started getting dangerously close to puberty, Mildred fought valiantly for him. After all, who would force a boy to go through female puberty if there was medicine to prevent that? But the state considered that medicine to be some sort of child abuse –the ignorance astounded Lewis but was the reality. As a result, puberty filled him with a sense of dread; he supposed it would be like a horror movie where the main character slowly transforms into something they were not. It was odd society considered that to not be very abusive.

"I don't know what type of cockernanny orphanage you are running here!"

Lewis was snapped out of his thoughts at the sudden, harsh tone of Mr. Floyd's words.

"Just tell me what is wrong and I'll address it."

"You know what I'm talking about. You gave that child those hormones!"

"I did not give Lewis access to any hormones." Lewis could imagine Mildred folding her arms across her chest, looking as stern as she sounded.

"That's not true. The staff at the school confiscated them!"

"I don't know anything about this. Why don't you ask him?"

There was a pause that seemed to last forever, and the child's ears strained in case he was missing anything.

"I think I'll do just that." Floyd said, breaking the silence.

Lewis started scurrying back toward his room as he heard the old, wooden stairs of the orphanage squeak under the oppressive weight of Mr. Floyd. Once Lewis got in the room, his eyes immediately moved to Goob's baseball glove and baseball on the bottom bunk bed, and he felt guilty that the poor little guy had no clue. The blond picked them up before he made his way to the top of the bunk bed. Only a few seconds passed before he felt the imposing presence of Floyd in the doorway.

"Louise," The fake gentlemen started sweetly.

"The name is Lewis." The child nonchalantly threw the baseball up in the air and caught it.

"It is Louise."

"I don't have parents. At least you can let me have my name."

"Fine, Lewis." Floyd said it begrudgingly but he obviously wanted to keep some peace. "Where are you hiding them?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you are talking about."

"Don't play games with me. I know there's more."

Lewis feigned a look of absolute confusion as best as he could, but Floyd was obviously not moved by his performance and words. He sauntered himself slowly over to Lewis' desk and then began ravishing the drawers.

"Hey, that's my stuff!" Lewis placed the glove down and climbed down to confront the unwelcome intrusion. It was obvious that play time was over.

The inventor hated when people went through his things. Not only because he barely had anything to call his own, but these things were prototypes; he didn't even want to see the likes of Mr. Floyd hurt himself. A burly arm pushed against the child's chest and stopped the blond from going any further.

"Don't -"

"I'm only trying to help you, kiddo." The intruder interrupted, "I'm making sure you have a future."

"You're not helping." Lewis insisted and his eyes widened as Floyd pulled out a hat from underneath the desk, "No, don't touch that!"

It was one of those beer drinking hats that one found at baseball games but Lewis had modified it –and not in the way Floyd thought the young inventor had.

"I think I found the jackpot."

"You don't understand…"

"You know you can be a girl and an inventor, right Louise?" Floyd attempted to open one of the canisters but was having trouble. The man picked up a nearby screwdriver to help him finish the job. "Companies are always looking for more female inventors. You should consider who you really are a blessing. You know, make the best of it."

Lewis started to back up and barely avoided the gallon of peanut butter and jelly that spilled all over Floyd's face and clothing.

"That's my peanut butter and jelly sandwich maker. I'm still working out the kinks."

Floyd had walked into that one and immediately marched out, Lewis not knowing if the anger was directed at him or not. Either way, he better follow just in case it was him. The inventor looked at Goob's baseball glove knowingly before he went after the stomping man, happy that Floyd didn't find the rest of his stash. He heard a gasp from Mildred as Floyd was about to go downstairs.

"Did he-" Lewis could see the nun actually looked horrified as the peanut butter and jelly covered man made his way down the stairs. The inventor tried to hide his smile when he imagined that some milk would have made this even better. Maybe for version 2.0.

"I cannot believe you support that child's insane choices!" Floyd shouted and he cast Mildred an angry look as he made it to the bottom steps.

Lewis shook his head and rolled his eyes, not believing the ignorance of this man. Lewis could either not transition tormented by the wrong puberty, or transition and be tormented by society. Some choice.

"Lewis is who he is. I cannot change that even if I wanted to."

"What are you going to do when adoption never happens?"

"He will be adopted."

"No, he won't. This orphanage is starting to get a reputation, a bad one."

"What are you saying?"

"As head of the Followers of Christ orphanages - if this continues - I'll have no choice but to move Lewis to foster care." The man made his way to the door and opened it, ignoring Mildred's protests. "I will not allow one out of control child to ruin it for the rest of the children here. Good day."

The door slammed and Mildred immediately turned around and glared at Lewis, who rubbed the back of his neck at the top of the stairs.

"I told him not to, but he went through my desk." Lewis explained to her, knowing it didn't need further explanation.

The nun struggled to not grin; it served the bastard right. The nun had to also keep down a chuckle, as she tried to desperately keep her composure. She didn't want to give Lewis the wrong idea.

"This is bad Lewis." She frowned. "Maybe, just for one interview, can you be Louise and not bring an invention? You know, just to see how it goes?"

"Mildred, I want people to adopt me. Not Louise."

The nun sighed, knowing there was no use arguing. Lewis could only pretend to not be a bungling, transgender inventor for only a short while. If the couple could not handle it, they would just send him back to the orphanage after adopting him. This was who he was, and potential couples needed to accept that from the first day they met him-or face a very unpleasant surprise.

"I know it has been a though day for you. Why don't you go outside and play with the other children?" She suggested. "I have to make dinner tonight, but I'll make sure it is your favorite."

Mildred turned and walked away hurriedly, already being twenty minutes behind schedule. Lewis decided to not follow her suggestion and went past one of the three playrooms on his way to the abode of his sanctuary. He climbed up another flight of stairs, feeling suffocated by the narrow walls that enclosed on him as he went up the spiraling staircase. When he parted the door, he was almost blinded by the light outside and shielded his eyes as he made his first steps on the rooftop of the orphanage.

Lewis felt drained from the fights today. His calm and rational exterior was veiling the torrent of emotions that were going through him as he made his way to the edge of the building. If he showed what he felt inside, an observer would have sworn he was intending on jumping to his ultimate doom. Instead, he stopped just short of the edge when he arrived at a wooden cargo box and went on his knees, preparing himself for what was sadly becoming a daily ritual.

He picked up a piece of white chalk that sat next to the box and prepared to make a mark, struggling to keep his emotions in check. There was too much to get upset over in his life, so he tried his best to not feel anything at all. But it wasn't working.

Nothing he did worked.

Maybe his mother somehow knew he would end up this way, a broken freak. Maybe she knew he was going to be transgender and gave him up. It wasn't a bad theory, the fleeing parents from adoption interviews once Mildred had to break the news he was trans was proof enough that this was plausible.

The only thing to console Lewis was that Floyd did not find and confiscate the rest of his hormones; it was such a small victory but it seemed so large to him. He knew taking this into his own hands and getting hormones illegally was unwise and dangerous, but he was truly desperate.

Unlike most boys his age, probably very soon, his voice would drop within days than over the course of a year. It would be extremely sudden, startling to most. But at least for now, the male puberty would be able to protect him from the horror of going through the other puberty. The wrong puberty. –And it was all thanks to his technical skills.

He had done small, technical favors for various companies in the area. In exchange, he got the hormones. He was sure they were legitimate hormones, people needed his technical skills too much to shortchange him. That is why he loved inventing things. It represented his freedom, his salvation. Sure, he got a little overboard but that's what scientists do.

There was another reason Lewis was so eccentric and started bringing in devices he knew would fail into the interview room. If a couple could just overlook his malfunctioning inventions, maybe -just maybe- they could overlook him being transgender. But it obviously hadn't worked, nothing he did worked…

He dropped the chalk and his tears followed.

The new mark on the box was the one hundred twenty third.


End file.
